


Convor's Song

by Ewok_Poet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Legacy Era - All Media Types
Genre: Batorine, Gen, Mutants, New Planet, The Force, blood carvers, blood trees, convorees, monsua nebula, mutations, sev-ersk, the negs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 19:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10394478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewok_Poet/pseuds/Ewok_Poet
Summary: Darth Maladi is tasked with a mission she does not want to undertake, for she believes her powers are of better use elsewhere. She then recalls her final quest before she became a Sith Lady and her reluctance perishes, and so does a remote civilisation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora/gifts), [Findswoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findswoman/gifts).



**“Life is pain. Death is pain. We remain between the two.”**

_– Darth Maladi to Cade Skywalker (Legacy: Monster, 2/4)_

  
The female astromech droid chirped like a distressed avian once Annaj disappeared and everything else transformed to white lines. Darth Maladi let an angry sigh and used the Force to kick her across the cockpit of _Bloodangel_. The chirps went quiet and the sphere-headed underling used one of its numerous appendages to get up again and connect to the navicomputer. The Monsua Nebula, known for its high radiation, was not exactly a blue milk run and this was not the time for binary melodrama, or anything even remotely resembling feelings.  
  
This was not the kind of the task the Devaronian Sith Lady expected when she left the strangely comfortable stench of her laboratory behind and eagerly accepted to try something new. She was not a Hand, she was not the one for action, unless it was absolutely necessary. But with Darth Talon playing hide-and-seek with Cade Skywalker all around the Galaxy, the Master had no other choice but to send her to get this done instead.  
  
The tranquility of hyperspace travel gave way to what once used to be a lush, green, world. But Sev-Ersk in the Outer Moddell Sector, in the mists of the notorious Monsua Nebula, was nothing like its atmosphere would have suggested. Behind the green, radiotrophic algae-infested layers of ozone lay a wasteland of grim, bare trees, plains covered in blackgrass and crude stone structures visible in the distance. The planet’s star, UR-1060 looked like one of its neighbouring brown dwarves, as the once protective layer covering the planet was almost completely black from its surface.  
  
“Some celestial bodies never become stars.” Maladi thought. A gas giant grabbing too much to itself during the birth of a star system was destined to fail and leave a trail of nothing but death behind. This was pretty much the case with everything that sucked up its surroundings, every creature that overate and every individual who overestimated his or her abilities.  
  
But not One Sith. The order she belonged to was built on gaining more and more, through fear and pain. And she was the one responsible for planting the seeds of pain in order to reap the poisonous fruits of fear.  
  
_Bloodangel_ landed next to a fallen tree. Everything was moist, the soil was damp and the presence of puddles all around the clearing made it impossible to land her starship without piloting straight into one of the numerous nearby mudflats.  
  
“D-weep, boop-boo!” the droid went again.  
  
“I can see that myself, Thirteen. You’re getting out first and cleaning this up.”  
  
“B-gwap!”  
  
“And don’t talk back!” Maladi raised her hand again, but this time, R-13 obliged.  
  
“Trrr-gawd!”- less than a minute later, she was done with the clean-up.  
  
Maladi nodded and made her way out of _Bloodangel_. She took a deep breath and looked around. Sev-Ersk was closest to an offspring that she would ever have – one of her first major assignments. And this was the first time that she had a chance to see how it was coming along, ten standard years after her little experiment began. She pulled her hood up and attached her breathing mask.  
  
Minutes later, she was walking down a path of blackgrass, her right hand on her hip, ready to draw her lightsaber. R-13 lit the way before her. The road led through silverthorn-covered shrubbery, seemingly in the direction of the smudged shape in the dark sky. Yes, a dark star walked with a Sith Lady and her soulless companion. How convenient.  
  
“Thirteen, coordinates?” Maladi addressed the droid again.  
  
A couple of cheerful chirps, a stark contrast to the surroundings, came to assure the Sith that the little stone hut that served as her laboratory back when the experiment took place was not far away. And there it was, indeed, just around the curve, covered by one of her and Zenoc Quah’s creations - the psychotropic, predatory mutation of the Trindellan Oak. A couple of corpses of local peasants hung from the branches – perhaps the carnivorous trees needed more nutrients. Why weren’t any of the corpses fresh? They were almost skeletal at this point. Still, for a moment, Maladi was more than pleased.  
  
“You see, Thirteen…” she turned to R-13 again. “…they experienced the worst of pain for the first couple of weeks or so, when the oaks would drill holes in their limbic system and start feeding on them. And they could do nothing else but blame themselves for the passionate urge they had to climb these deadly trees. But they were not given the power to resist.”  
  
“G-worp!”  
  
“No, you won’t rot from this rain. You bear the same markings as I do, it would be a shame for the rust to dot them.”  
  
“Kweeerkch!”  
  
“You’re smart, Thirteen, but the rust from the rain falling on this planet would not be orange.”  
  
The little droid went silent again and unlocked the blast doors to the well-disguised bunker. The trees’ dense branches closed behind Maladi as she followed the robot inside. As she expected, everything was intact – no mere mortal could get past her deadly trees. She wiped the dust off the screen of the modified portable laboratory unit and leaned over it.  
  
“Time elapsed: 616 days. Percentage of the planet contaminated: 99.7%. Sentients still alive: 9. Seven males, two females, one of whom is a child. One of the males leads the group and has…has begun a decontamination process in the planet’s only village!”  
  
She hissed and shook her head. So, that was what the Master actually wanted from her? It was not a trust test, it was a puzzle to solve. Remains of a race to exterminate completely. A skilled bioengineer who could be of further use. This was a hyperlane junction and one of the lanes led to more power.  
  
Still…  
  
This couldn't have been a job for her.  
  
This should not have been a job for her.  
  
The Master must have lost his mind from all those healing-stasis-sessions.  
  
This was a job for a Hand. Darth Talon would have known what to do with this kind of a man, the leader of the surviving Skitees. Sex was her weapon of choice. But she, Darth Maladi, was not swinging that way. Carnal desires were an unnecessary distraction and she knew that even if she was to copulate, she would have ended up poisoning her lover anyway. Sex existed solely to gain power, so why bother with the formalities?  
  
This was a job for a Diplomat. Darth Kruhl would have known whom to exterminate in order to make this leader stop the operation and be recruited to work for Intelligence on Coruscant or one of the remote bioengineering facilities, such as Wayland. He would have picked the most obedient ones to be used as subjects of further experiments, too.  
  
She could, of course, choose the third path, the one seldom travelled by those other than the Sith: kill the promising one and his entourage and never make it known that somebody could have, perhaps, outranked her. That was the trap of fear that Darth Ruyn evaded, taking pride in his apprentice. That was one of the reasons she never wanted an apprentice.  
  
_*I see you, Malincha.*_  
  
Doubt was something she had long been a stranger to. The last time she doubted herself was when she left her past behind and took on the title of the Dark Lady of the Sith. Why was that happening right now? The first time on Sev-Ersk, she had been sure of herself.  
  
_*I see you, Malincha.*_  
  
That name. She had not heard it since Darth Krayt killed her Jedi father on Devaron, then grabbed her out of her mother’s arms, leaving the one who gave birth to her to die from a different kind of an embrace – a Force choke.  
  
_*I see you, Malincha.*_  
  
That voice. It belonged to the fallen Jedi that planted the seed that eventually became her. How ironic, that a seed of love gave birth to one seeding fear to sow hate.  
  
She thought this had been cleared long ago. She was her parents’ weakness and the weak ones had to die. Attachments were to be formed through passion for gaining power, not through unconditional love.  
  
_*I see you, Malincha.*_  
  
And there, it flashed before her eyes. The terrified face of her father, which was the very last grimace to grace his skull before decomposition, the very last spasm before _rigor mortis_ set in. That was the only real memory she had prior to her training on Batorine.  
  
Batorine…


	2. Chapter 2

**“I'll send you to dwell in the Bloodwoods first.”**

_– Ku Vrat to Sint Yoru (Legacy: Tatooine, 2/4)_

  
Batorine…  
  
Back on Batorine, nearly fifteen years ago. She was still fresh from her abduction on Devaron, where she had pledged loyalty to the One Sith. An idea of an alternate future where she was to be a Jedi Padawan, her father’s apprentice, and a force of good, as opposed to evil, was still lingering in the back of her head. While she was not quite sure what her mission had been about – the one that had taught her, after months of exhausting training, to embrace pain instead of peace – she sensed that there had to have been something more to it."  
  
She was given some clues. A starmap leading to this very planet, a bright light in the murky wasteland known as the Negs and the word “Jedi” written on a piece of plasmagreen flimsi. Was her first killing supposed to involve a fugitive Jedi on Batorine? A Jedi that had betrayed their Order and that was a possible recruit for One Sith?  
  
The navicomputer in her simple, outdated shuttle did not provide her with much information on Batorine, other than that a large portion of the planet had been covered in endless forests of Blood Trees and that some of the forests were inhabited by Blood Carvers. She quite liked these names. There was something painful about them, something scratching the surface and digging through to the very core.  
  
Still, that was everything she had managed to learn about this place. She needed more guidance.  
  
She reached into the Force and soon, the voice of her Master, Darth Krayt, echoed in her mind.  
  
“I see you, Malincha. I see you in the tempting beauty of your own uncertainty. You think you know everything because there is nothing in the Archives that you have not read and there is no toxin that an aspiring scientist like you won’t be able to make. But there is more than that. There are so many things that you don’t know about the dark side of the Force, and they are essential for completing your training today. So, how does it feel when you don’t know something?”  
  
Malincha swallowed a lump. Was her Master putting her down for not having been born on the the Sith homeworld? Again? He had implied more than once that she and Darth Nihl, formerly a Nagai warlord, were different from the younglings raised on Korriban, those that had been nursed with the black milk of unkindness. Was this supposed to motivate her to prove to him that she was as capable as them, or, to put it that way, perhaps even more dangerous?  
  
She walked through the Blood Trees for hours, almost disappointed to find that they did not bleed at all. But an idea of a tree that could bleed or cause others to bleed was something she wanted to file away for later, to the very back of her mind. The colour of the trees themselves was indeed red, and some of them bore strange markings. The further she went, the more these markings started looking like drawings or symbols and not some accidental patterns in the blood-red wood.  
  
At some point, these drawings were clearly telling stories. Was she closer to what she was searching for?  
  
The forest broke into a meadow, where a single Blood Carver sat in front of a makeshift firepit, meditating. She wore a long, patched cloak and had a couple of tattoos that looked like tiny trees on her cheeks.  
  
“Their species’ tradition…” Malincha said, more or less to herself. That much she knew. “Related to their beliefs…”  
  
The Blood Carver opened her eyes and raised her beak, which immediately turned from golden to orange. Malincha felt a ripple run through her insides. This being could indeed sense one’s presence in the Force.  
  
The Jedi of Batorine. There was indeed a Jedi on Batorine. Malincha hid behind the nearest tree to observe this extraordinary creature that, at the first glimpse, seemed enchanted by the inferior powers of the Light side of the Force. The Blood Carver got up, her beak now red, and reached for what was clearly a blue-bladed lightsaber.  
  
And just then, she heard her Master’s voice again.  
  
“Do you see her, Malincha? Her name is Ka Shiya. She is an outcast. She does not believe in the Art of Dying, which is the religion these peasants practice. Is she better or worse than them for that? It’s up to you to decide. Their skin might be golden, but is their belief worth anything?”  
  
“She has a lightsaber, my Master.” The teenage Devaronian clutched her fists. “She was clearly trained...”  
  
Malincha went silent, mid-sentence. She changed her mind and decided to observe Ka Shiya. The Blood Carver had, by then, approached the closest tree.  
  
“Peace is where I find it. Peace is what I am,” she said, in a raspy voice. “Seeking acceptance. Redemption. Acceptance. Redemption.”  
  
Something did not seem quite right with the mantra Malincha remembered from her Father’s meditations. The next thing she knew, Ka Shiya stabbed the drawing on the tree with her lightsaber. A small hole formed, prompting her to kneel down in her hiding place.  
  
“Stop bothering me! I do not seek art beyond dying! There is no death! There will never be death!”  
  
That did not sound like the Jedi Code, either. Malincha had waited long enough. She lit up her lightsaber and jumped from her hiding place.  
  
“Who dares disturb a Jedi?” Ka Shiya extended her free hand towards the Devaronian and the next thing Malincha knew, she was Force-pushed against a tree.  
  
“I sense fear in you, Malincha. Good. Good!” Her Master’s voice had an excited note to it, or so she thought. “By the way, Ka Shiya is on her own. Her brother, Ku Vrat, is a bounty hunter. Ironically – or perhaps, not – he believes in the Art of Dying.”  
  
Malincha was not sure why this would have been relevant. She got up and delivered a modest bolt of Force Lightning Blood Carver’s way. But Ka Shiya blocked it with her blade and she could only watch the lightsaber absorb the remaining sparks.  
  
“You Jedi, too?” The insect-like being asked in broken Basic. “Me sorry. Want train with me? Help me redeem me? Remove me tattoo? I outcast!”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“The tribe left me. Brother bounty hunter, I have the Force. I be a Jedi. Help me get to Crosscurrent!”  
  
“Coruscant?” Malincha thought to herself. “That’s a…strange name for it.”  
  
Just then, she could hear another voice. Not Ka Shiya’s. Not Darth Krayt’s.  
  
"There is no passion, there is only peace, daughter. You must control your emotions, Malincha. Your fear."  
  
That was her father. A rare Devaronian Jedi whom she watched die and did not attempt to stop it from happening. She put her lightsaber back on her belt and walked towards Ka Shiya, who proceeded to do the same.  
  
“D…do you think she needs me?” Malincha asked, in a voice much softer than usual.  
  
“Yes. You can bring this confused young soul back to light. You can bring yourself back to light.”  
And just then, when she was about to offer a hand to the Blood Carver, her Master’s voice overpowered her father’s again.  
  
“Malincha, you are on the way to failing me. You are showing mercy. For a Sith there is only pain, rage, and fear. Gain control of your enemies through fear!"  
  
“What do you want me to do, my Master?” she asked.  
  
“Kill Ka Shiya.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Search your thoughts and you will know why.”  
  
She did not have much time to think. Ka Shiya was strong in the Force, and whatever she believed in could have been twisted and shaped into becoming yet another mind absorbed in the One Sith hive, but was this poor creature really fit for killing?  
  
Ka Shiya was now on her knees. “Help remove tattoo please. I drew it a picture on tree, slam lightsaber into tree, meditate, slam it again. Not help! I no longer Art of Dying, I Jedi!”  
  
“Malincha, show mercy! You…” Her father’s voice went silent.  
  
“Master?” she whispered through the Force, hoping that she had not failed Darth Krayt.  
  
“You are looking to gain your tattoos. Ka Shiya is looking to get rid of her own, even if that means having herself blood-carved as a sculpture. She thinks she is following the ways of the Jedi, but she clearly is misguided. I misguided her deliberately. So give her what she wants!”  
  
The One Sith mastermind paused for a moment.  
  
“I misguided you, too.”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
“At this point, Malincha, you need to know. I had been directing both of you, urging you to fight each other. I traffic in lies. I exploit passion. And, at some point, I decided which one of you was going to be of more use to me.”  
  
“Are you saying that you raised us independently, to play us off against each other one day?” She said fearfully and then, her tone changed to raspier than Ka Shiya’s. “That’s wonderful!”  
  
Darth Krayt continued. “She tried, Ka Shiya did. She tried a lot. She managed to learn Galactic Basic, which is notoriously hard for a native speaker of Batorese. She was more than dedicated. Perhaps a bit too much.”  
  
Malincha was now sure. Only one of the two young women could walk away from this battle. And while she did not have the strength that the Blood Carver had, yet, she had a stronger mind and from the moment she had switched from light to dark, she knew the true colour of fear.  
  
It was blood red. Like the trees surrounding them.  
  
“It’s all right, Ka Shiya.” She said, softly. “Just sit there and I will use the Force to remove your tattoos…” She raised her father’s lightsaber. “…AND YOUR LIMBS! AND YOUR HEAD!”  
  
With her eyes closed, yelling in a voice that almost did not sound like her own, she kept on cutting through the Blood Carver’s golden skin and flesh with her lightsaber. Her fear was so intense and her rage was burning so bright that the misguided being did not even manage to take one last breath.  
  
It took a couple of minutes for her heart to stop beating fast and, from that moment on, still breathing heavily, she was sure that she no longer had it. And the Master did not even have to say so. _She knew it._  
  
And just then, he appeared right before her. He had been shadowing his presence in the Force, observing the death match from a safe distance.  
  
“Come to me.” Darth Krayt ordered.  
  
She kneeled before him. A small part of her being, still burning like fire, knew that, in such a vulnerable position, she could suffer the same fate as the pile of golden flesh and flowing red blood to her left.  
  
“I have broken the spine of the Galaxy and whoever is to serve me is destined to break spines, too.” He began. “I traffic in lies. You too shall traffic in lies. And pain. I have seeded a lot of pain all over your path up to this very moment. You needed to feel the pain in order to be able to become what I have planned for you. I was being generous, Malincha.”  
  
“Yes, my Master.”  
  
“I name you Darth Maladi and you will be leading the branch of One Sith that will be murdering billions with a shake of a single bottle.”  
  
She got up. Her eyes flashed golden yellow. Much like the corpse of the Blood Carver she had slayed. Much like the heart that she had left behind.  
  
Malincha.  
  
Darth Maladi.  
  
Malincha.  
  
Darth Maladi.  
  
Malincha.  
  
Darth Maladi.  
  
DARTH MALADI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood Carver is a species of humanoid insects from the planet Batorine, in the Negs.
> 
> Art Beyond Dying is Blood Carvers' belief. There is nothing about it anywhere, including Rogue Planet, so I came up with some ideas of my own.
> 
> Ka Shiya is an OC, but Ku Vrat is not. He appears in Legacy and since the word “vrat” means “neck” in my native language and so does “šija”, I created him a sister whose name is basically the same thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**"No one is neutral."**  
_\- Darth Wyyrlok_

DARTH MALADI!!!

"What am I doing?" the Sith Lady asked herself. She dropped the datapad, but Thirteen reached out and grabbed it. “And you, get out of my sight!” She narrowly missed the droid.

Thirteen obeyed and withdrew to the back room. Darth Maladi took a couple of minutes - or maybe it had taken much longer than she thought, to reflect on what had just happened. Those were her memories. The last thing that had happened to her before she was baptised by blood, before she killed a clearly innocent, criminally insane creature and became a true Sith. And nobody else knew that she had had minor doubts back then, half a life ago. She did not even share her story with Darth Nihl, despite their vitriolic, sadistic friendship, or whatever thing resembling it they had as the only offworlders on Korriban.

And then she remembered one particular holocron from her vast library. She kicked her right foot against the floor, ripping through hardened clay with Force Lightning.  
Her Master had managed to take control of her mind by means of that notorious Memory Walk technique, also known as torture by chagrin. He walked through the most dubious of her memories and showed her that one time she had made the right choice. But, at the same time, he shamed her into showing her that old, vulnerable, still somewhat naïve self that she had long discarded.

It was now clear to her. Memories were eternal. And they were the fuel she had to add to the fire of fear and doubt, whenever the wind would blow too strong. Something had to uncover more pain, for the lies that there was none that had been spread by the Jedi for millennia had long become stale.

So, yes, Memory Walk. Memory Walk for victory. Power!

There had been talks around Korriban that such a notorious Force power existed, but that only a rare few could master it. Not even the most powerful Sith such as Darth Malak, Bane, Sidious or Vader had been capable of it. Was her Master really the most powerful Force wielder that had ever lived, or did he just want the One Sith, and the entire Galaxy, to believe that?

Perhaps she could too attempt to master it?

Oh, the things she could do with it!

For one, scare that coward, Vul Isen, into submission. She had long feared abd doubted him – why was that weakling of a Givin still serving the Order when he had no talent for combat? Was he plotting against her? Was he going to give her Master the cure that she had not been able to make in her main laboratory and in her torture chambers on Coruscant? And was he going to corrupt her mind by insisting that scientists had to question their own actions and negotiate their way to personal safety by means other than combat?

And how about finding where Cade Skywalker’s weakness lay? He had managed to fool the Sith once, he could walk the thin line between Light and Dark as if it were a form of art in its own right. There had to be a way to blind him to the light, for good. And then, if he were really able to rid the Master of the Vongspawn virus, she could learn more about his notorious healing secrets and then get rid of him.

Yes, the things she could do with the Memory Walk Force power.

But right now, her priority were the ’Skitees. And there was only one thing she could do. Release the virus. The fact that one of these males could have been a hero to manipulate into joining the Sith did not matter much to her, for she could have been beaten by him, much as it had been with Ka Shiya back in the days.

She was going to show her Master how Memory Walk worked – by extracting his own memories of being A’sharad Hett, the son of Sharad Hett, his battle with the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi, his alliance with the Vong and his eventual arrival to Korriban. She could bring out his fears of succumbing to the Vongspawn virus and that would too be good - because pain is good, life is pain, death is pain and we remain between the two.

And she would still have been his most trusted member of One Sith. For she knew how to keep him alive. That was the only thing he needed Cade Skywalker for, after all. She did not dare think what would have happened if he had managed to capture the last living member of the well-known Force-wielding family. Would he still need her, or would she be sentenced to doom, offered as prey to a teenage acolyte?

She let her hair down, changed her black corset dress to a bunch of rags and, having told the droid to keep quiet, marched to the nearby village. What happened next was a blur: she claimed, no, she swore that she had come in peace. Then there was somebody who recognised her, the older of two men, and she had to call Thirteen, who fetched her the red-bladed lightsaber. Five heads fell down, the last couple of members of the tribe got to experience the newest “baby” from her orphanage of despair – the toxin that had made the ’Skitees’ skin turn bright red and cause their blood vessels would start growing until they crushed their own lungs and heart. She loved it.

  
“I shall call it…Omega Red!” She nodded to herself, pleased. “Reworking Alpha Red was a great idea. Vul Isen has nothing on me!”

The last of the ’Skitees grabbed himself by the throat and fell down. Two convorees on the branch above chirped. Maladi could see that they too were the fruits of her work, not common birds that fed on worms. One of them, the larger one, flew to the nearest corpse and started pecking its opened eyes.

The smaller convor remained behind, screeching. After a couple more bites, its mother started rolling over. Apparently, the neurotoxin was stronger than Maladi had thought – it was capable of killing anything that tried to feed on ’Skitees.

“Now, imagine if this could be used somewhere interesting.” Maladi said to herself, after changing back into her black attire and putting her hair back into a high equine-tail. “Somewhere like…Coruscant.”

She did not feel sorry for the bird that remained behind, nor for the collateral damage that she had caused. After all, surviving would not have done her good. For once she threw the second batch of Omega Red from a safe distance in orbit, Sev-Ersk was in for a “natural” disaster that would have been referred to as a work of art by that Chiss warlord of more than a century ago.

Almost absent-mindedly, she extended two clenched fingers towards the convor chick.

**Author's Note:**

> Annaj is the capital of the Moddell Sector, otherwise known for the Forest Moon of Endor.
> 
> Bloodangel was made up on spot. And do not google "blood angel", unless you can stomach it. I thought it would be a fitting name for a Sith Lady's personal shuttle.
> 
> The system created for this story is in the Monsua Nebula and therefore also a part of Outer Moddell Systems.
> 
> The name Sev-Ersk was inspired by Soviet and nowadays Russian closed cities, Seversk in the Tomsk Oblast in particular. What Dath Maladi does to it is far more similar to the Windscale Fire and the Kyshtym Disaster.
> 
> Blackgrass, however, is yet another reference to a different, bigger disaster, that I need to leave in every single story I write. I might or might not end up giving the plant the Biblical symbolism of its RL equivalent, Artemisia absinthium.
> 
> UR-1060 is indeed a star in the Monsua Nebula. I took the liberty of placing Sev-Ersk in its orbit.
> 
> I am not sure about radiotropic algae, but there is such a thing as radiotropic fungi, so why not?
> 
> R-13 droids were a fun idea, as the last generation that was mentioned in Legends continuity was R-9 and that was about one hundred years before the timeframe of the Legacy comics.
> 
> Zenoc Quah is a Yuuzhan Vong shaper who did not surrender with the others and went into exile on Wayland. He and Darth Maladi worked on sabotahing the Ossus Project.
> 
> Trindellan Oak is a species of a tree endemic to the moon of Trindello in the same sector. In this case, these trees were bioengineered to kill and feed on intruders.
> 
> Darth Krayt's constant need for healing stases, how he got a hold of Darth Maladi, hints of how Darth Ruyn died (at the hand of Darth Talon) and references to how Darth Kruhl and Darth Talon handle their business = all canon.
> 
> Skitees are an original species made up for this story.
> 
> Silverthorn is fanon, some sort of the planet's own parasite species that feeds on dying shrubs.


End file.
